


Something Wicked This Way Comes

by la_muerta



Series: The Hollow Crown [2]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Bastardizing Shakespeare, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, F/F, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Grim Reaper Magnus Bane, Hopeful Ending, Lightwood royal family, M/M, Prince Alec Lightwood, Queen Isabelle Lightwood, References to Shakespeare, Shakespeare Quotations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-07-13 01:36:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16007558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/la_muerta/pseuds/la_muerta
Summary: As the Grim Reaper, Magnus has always been an observer, a witness. He is not supposed to interfere in the workings of Fate and Destiny, where even the slightest careless nudge can send the future that was meant to come to pass spiralling into chaos.He made an exception for Alexander Lightwood - one soul in the millions that Magnus has reaped, but a soul that changed Magnus irrevocably. And that exception that he made might have its consequences yet...





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

He gasped, choking from the foul taste in his mouth and nose. 

Where was he? He was dead. He had lived in a place that was always cold and crowded with people he wasn't allowed to talk to. _Stone walls, high gates._ He had died, but he had still wandered the passageways and done things, spoken to people - he had become a ghost, cut off the head of a blond man with a cruel smile. _Using assassins and magic tricks, as you call it, is politics, dear cousin._ Then he had kissed a beautiful man goodbye before taking a journey across a black desert.

_Magnus_.  

That name - that name was important. That man was important to him. 

He couldn't remember much else - the desert had been neither hot nor cold, the horizon never-ending and stretching out forever with no end in sight. Then he had woke up to this - this numbness, this feeling of wrongness. He was cold, stiff, everything hurt and was numb at the same time. And above all, he felt trapped and disgusted by the body he was in. It was dead flesh, rotting carrion. Everything in him recoiled at the knowledge that this was him now. He had been free, and now he was shackled. He had been  _dead_. 

But who was he? What was his name? 

He struggled to sit up, but his arms and legs wouldn't obey, left cold and unmoving in the rigidity of death for too long. He was lying in a circle of candles and bowls filled with odd things - blood, bones, body parts of various creatures, foul-smelling herbs. After what seemed like an age, he finally managed to jerk himself onto his side, and found himself looking at the shrivelled face and crazed eyes of an old woman. 

She grinned at him, all sharp teeth and bared gums. "Rise and shine, my little prince," she crooned, her voice cloying sweet and unpleasant to his ears. "Come to Camille, now. For I have a purpose for you." 

  

 

"Your heart is not in the game, my friend."

Magnus blinked, the black-and-white chessboard and its scattered pieces in front of him snapping back into focus, and frowned at the sorcerer sitting across him. "I was considering my next move," he protested, moving one of the pieces in front of him at random. 

Ragnor sighed and shook his head, then moved his bishop, and put Magnus' king in check. "Here sits a king no more woeful than you are. A new moon has come and gone since you walked the spirit of the prince to the door that leads to the next world, and yet I still see the lines of sorrow in your face, and the thoughts of him in your eyes."

Magnus sat back in the fussy armchair that belonged to Ragnor, abandoning all pretense of being interested in the game. "What would you have had me done, Ragnor? Should I have kept him in my service till his mortal mind turned to madness? Would you rather I stood by and watched his pure, unsullied soul become a vengeful spectre, hands stained by the blood of the ones he had loved in life? All souls must eventually go into the endless night."

"Oh, letting him move on was not the mistake," Ragnor replied snidely.

Magnus scowled. "I am afraid I do not follow."

"Don't insult us both by pretending you do not understand. You are Death himself, eternal and unchanging, yet the boy has wrought some change in you," Ragnor observed. "I fear that your imprudence will have its consequences yet."

"Oh, I knew the folly of it," Magnus admitted quietly. "I had eyes and still I chose him - as he did I."

Ragnor sighed. "What is done is done. But if you must insist on learning to fall in love as humans do, than perhaps it would do you good to learn to grieve as we do as well. He may return, or he may not; even you do not have the power to divine that."

"And in your great wisdom, pray, what do you suggest I do then?" Magnus said, voice dripping with sarcasm. With a flick of his wrist, he changed Ragnor's horrible armchair to something more to his tastes - dark leather, well-worn and warm. If it just happened to be the exact chair that Alec had sat on in Magnus' domain, nobody had to know.

" _Not_ taking your frustrations out on my furniture, for a start," Ragnor said with a scowl, then added more gently, "He is gone, Magnus. I know you still feel the holes in the spaces where he used to be, but those holes will only grow bigger if you keep poking at them. All souls must go into the endless night, _and you must let them go_."

Magnus was silent for a long while after that, pretending to busy himself with Ragnor's flowery tea set and half-heartedly considering changing the tea set to something else as well, just to spite Ragnor for bringing up things Magnus didn't want to talk about. And the worst thing was, Magnus knew that there was wisdom in Ragnor's words. He had felt the passing of every soul that had ever lived, millions upon millions of lives; from the most wretched vermin to the mightiest heroes, from the first simple creature to draw breath to likely the last thing to close its eyes forever when the world came to an end. Alexander Lightwood had been an extraordinary man in life as he had been in death, but he was just one brief spark in the infinite darkness that Magnus walked in. 

The passing of Alexander Lightwood should have been of no consequence to a primordial thing like Magnus, and yet it was. He was a bright spark that Magnus wanted to hold on to, because maybe there would never be another one like him in Magnus' endless existence. 

"I don't think you understand, Ragnor. I can't let him go," Magnus admitted. He sighed and stood up, and with a wave of his hand he put Ragnor's furniture back to rights. "Thank you for the tea and chess, old friend." 

"You are welcome to those any time, but I wish you would take my advice as well," Ragnor muttered as Magnus disappeared.

 

 

Magnus was Death: the ultimate reality, the tomb of every hope, destined to witness the end of everything, alone. He had seen creatures of all sorts grieve for the ones that were lost to them, but he had never expected to experience it himself, and was shocked to find that even though he was not made of flesh and blood, and did not actually have a heart so to speak, he was not immune to heartache. He, too, could feel want, taste grief, need friends. Some days he wondered if he had become so anchored in the form he had taken that he would one day close his eyes, go to sleep, and wake up a mortal man. 

As was his habit on days like these when his thoughts turned to Alec, he spurred his horse toward the direction of the royal castle of Idris. Ragnor would likely have scolded him if he knew, and even Alec himself had recognised this: the living had to fight their own battles. But it gave him some measure of comfort to think that he was watching over Alec's loved ones now that Alec could no longer do so, even if there was nothing much Magnus was allowed do for them.

He put his horse away safely in the stables and stalked the hallways of the castle unseen. It was late in the day, and he knew he would find Queen Isabelle in her study, poring over missives from nobles, ambassadors and merchants from all over kingdom, trying her best to stay informed about what was going on with her people. The number of letters she had to go through often meant that she had her dinner brought to her so she could continue reading into the night and until her candle burned out, but Magnus knew that if the common folk could read and write, she would have encouraged them to write to her as well.

His Alexander would have been so proud of her, but he would also have worried about his sister. Every passing day she grew thinner and paler, bowed by the burdens of the crown that Alec had tried to spare her, her dinner often lying cold and forgotten as she read missive after missive about the growing unrest within her kingdom. With both the former Duke of Lynn and Marquis of Brocelind dead, and both family lines ended with no heir, all of Idris' remaining nobles were vying for the coveted positions, sending Isabelle letter after letter of alternating flattery and threat, and travelling from the various corners of the kingdom to seek audience with her to argue their case. As the first female ruler of Idris, even capable and confident Isabelle was feeling the strain of her nobles constantly trying to undermine her and disregard her authority, and no amount of glaring from Jace had any effect on them.

And if that wasn't enough, there were also growing tensions at the borders of Edom and Idris. The murderous ambitions of Sebastian Morgenstern had only been the tip of the iceberg, a herald of worse things to come; he had been Marquis of Brocelind, allied with the enemy, and Brocelind was now a land with no master, lying right at the border of the two kingdoms. Isabelle was not above using spies to find out what Edom was planning, but all they had discovered were vague rumours of a plot that only served to furrow her brows with more worry. 

Magnus wished Isabelle had someone to share her burdens with her. Jace was willing, but too brash for the subtlety of politics. Catarina had used her considerable influence to encourage loyalty to the new queen, but the trust that the people of Idris had placed in her was both blessing and curse to Isabelle, who feared that she would let them down. Isabelle needed an equal, someone both confidant and devil's advocate. And worst of all, Isabelle missed Alec with a ferocity that Magnus understood only too well, the sharp edges of her grief a constant, bleeding wound that Magnus was drawn to in commiseration; for perhaps nobody else had loved Alec the way that they both did.  

And then of course there was Jace, who loved his brother no less but at present had his heart torn between too many sorrows. Not only had he lost his brother, he had also been betrayed by the woman he loved, and blamed himself for not being able to deliver the killing blow to avenge his brother. While Isabelle drowned herself in politics, Jace threw himself into the training of the royal guard, a duty he had once shared with Alec. His heartache had made him a harder man; impatient with his soldiers, quick to anger, and imposing a rigorous training schedule that had incited more than some unhappy grumbling. Every night found him drinking sullenly in the castle kitchens until he fell asleep where he sat, raving incoherently about Alec and Clary. Magnus had never felt more powerless, watching Alec's brother burning himself up with anger, and feared that he would have to send Jace along to meet Alec sooner rather than later.  

Today, however, he was several feet away from Isabelle's door when there was a great commotion in the snowy courtyard below. Magnus peered out of a window to see twenty or thirty horsemen on powerful steeds, their riders dressed in rich furs and the beasts well-fed and hearty stock. At the head of them rode a man that Magnus immediately disliked, even though he could see little more than shoulders and the top of his head. He watched as they dismounted and sent a message via one of the pageboys, then bided his time until the boy ran up right to Isabelle's door. 

"My Queen! The Duke of Wrangel begs pardon for the intrusion and seeks urgent audience with you..." 

 

 

Magnus did not bother lurking in the shadows of the throne room, since nobody could see him. There were two seats, for the king and queen of the realm; Isabelle usually sat on the lower of the two even though she was rightfully queen, as she was still in mourning for Alec, with Jace standing at her side. Today, however, she chose to sit on her rightful place before sending for the Duke, and Magnus took a seat on the smaller throne to better observe the proceedings.

Jace bristled the moment the Duke of Wrangel strolled in with his full entourage. It was not uncommon for nobles to be armed, of course, and nobody would begrudge a man his right to carry a sword, but it soon became clear that the group of twenty-odd men who had accompanied the Duke were not all lackeys or guards. Some of them were lesser nobles, judging from the manner of their dressing, and the way they were rallying behind the Duke like he was their champion made even Magnus sit up and take notice. 

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your attention, Lord Aldertree?" Isabelle asked. "You have already made it a point to send me a letter every other day arguing your suitability for the position of Duke of Lynn. I must admit that I'm impressed that you've managed to do so even when you've been on the road persuading other nobles to your cause and neglecting your current duties to keep the people of your own lands safe and happy."

If Lord Aldertree found Isabelle's knowledge of his activities unsettling, he did not show it. Instead, he smiled widely and said, "I come bearing joyful tidings, your majesty. Your brother has been found!"

Magnus frowned, wondering if there had been a fifth Lightwood child that nobody had known about.

Isabelle's expression remained blank and impassive. "Both my blood brothers are dead, as you well know, and my adopted brother is standing right by my side."

"On the contrary. We had the great fortune to meet the Crown Prince just a few nights ago, and he had such a curious tale to tell! It appears that he was bewitched into thinking that he had died, and that he had left the throne to you - and wandered alone past the borders of Idris right into Edom. He was discovered and imprisoned, but by the grace and generosity of King Azazel, your brother is recovering from his ordeal as an honoured guest in the Palace of Edom," Lord Aldertree said pleasantly. "Alec Lightwood lives." 

"That's not possible," Izzy whispered, but Magnus felt the chill running down his spine, and a great sense of unease in his bones.

"We buried our brother when he was murdered on the night before his coronation. I cleaned and dressed his cold body with my own two hands, and Queen Isabelle laid the coins for the ferryman on his closed eyes. And then his spirit rose, and we saw his ghost slay the traitor Sebastian Morgenstern with our own eyes. Everybody who was present at Queen Isabelle's coronation feast saw his spirit give her his blessing. It has been the subject of every minstrel's song since, and I'm sure Lord Aldertree has had the opportunity to hear the tale, even if you were indisposed and begged leave not to attend the coronation," Jace spat out. 

"Oh, I have heard the tale, of course. But minstrels have a habit of spinning something out of nothing, especially when they are paid handsomely, and I don't believe in ghosts," Lord Aldertree said. 

"Are you accusing Queen Isabelle of paying the minstrels to spread lies?" Jace demanded. 

"Oh, I'm accusing the Queen of far more than that," Lord Aldertree said, dropping his false smile. "All the men here saw Prince Alec with their own two eyes - flesh and blood, and very much alive, although it looks like he has been dangerously ill. I'm accusing Queen Isabelle and Prince Jonathan of high treason: of plotting the death of Prince Alec, of engaging in witchcraft and sorcery, of usurping the throne and making the late Marquis of Brocelind, Lord Sebastian Morgenstern, the scapegoat for your evil plans, after which you had him murdered." 

Jace drew his sword, and everyone else in the room, nobles and guards alike on both sides, drew their swords in response. The intruding party was sorely outnumbered, and soon there would be more guards on the way, but Magnus did not trust that they might not try to hurt Isabelle or Jace with some low trick. With a wave of his hand, Magnus summoned the hourglasses belonging to Isabelle and Jace, and with dread he noted that the sand in the top bulb had dwindled to almost nothing - Alec's siblings were in peril once again, even if they weren't going to die today. 

"How dare you!" Jace seethed. 

"That's enough. I will not have blood shed in Idris' throne room," Isabelle said firmly, calm even though her face had lost its colour. To the gathered nobles, she said, "My brother was the dearest thing to my heart. If anybody is guilty of sorcery, surely it is King Azazel, who is and has always been enemy to Idris. You have been deceived; they must have found an imposter. And if any of you would choose to believe the King of Edom, then I must assume that you are traitors to Idris."

"Oh, tiger's heart wrapped in a woman's hide!" Lord Aldertree exclaimed. "I hoped to speak with you privately so that you would know shame that your plot has been uncovered and would relinquish the crown to your poor brother, but I see that you would rather lead Idris to war for your own selfish ends!"

"Guards! Please see that Lord Aldertree and his men are placed comfortably in the cleanest of the dungeons," Isabelle bit out. 

"It is too late - we're not the only ones who have seen Prince Alec, and soon the truth will spread," another of the nobles spoke up.

"Truth? You speak of truth, but all I have heard so far is hearsay," Isabelle said scornfully. "Where is your proof?"  

Lord Aldertree reached into a small leather purse hidden on his person and opened his fist. A heavy gold ring lay in the middle of his palm, and Magnus recognised it instantly - Alec had crossed over into the world of the dead with nothing but the clothes on his back, and not even his shoes, but he had worn that ring on his right hand even as a ghost. It was a signet ring bearing the Lightwood royal family's crest, much like the ones Isabelle and Jace wore on their own fingers, and he had presumably been buried with his. Isabelle and Jace were obviously greatly unnerved by this, but Isabelle soon recovered.

"I assure you, if my brother is indeed alive, I will hand the crown over to him with tears of joy and nothing but pure gratitude in my heart," Isabelle said, and dismissed them, leaving the room with as much dignity as she could muster.

  

 

Magnus had opened the door to the other world and seen Alec start his journey across the dark desert with his own two eyes. Alexander Lightwood was dead - of that Magnus had no doubt. But something in the story Lord Aldertree had told had struck Magnus as suspicious. Why would the king of an enemy kingdom lend Alec succour, and where had Aldertree obtained the ring? Something unnatural was afoot, and Magnus would have to made a trip to the Palace of Edom to find out what was going on. But first, he wanted to make sure that Isabelle and Jace would be safe, at least for the night.

He had expected Isabelle to return to her study, but instead she pulled on a rough woolen cloak to hide her fine clothes, and once the coast was clear, slipped out of the servants entrance of the castle, into the small keep town. Jace, similarly dressed, followed her through the town and out of the back gates into the frozen woods. Magnus followed them on the back of his steed, unseen and unnoticed except by the stray dogs that wandered the town begging for food, and house cats watching him from upstairs windows with their tails swishing. 

"Leave me be, Jace. I just needed to be alone," Isabelle said, pulling away. 

"Izzy, you can't possibly believe what Lord Aldertree said. He has had his eye on the crown for years, even when Father was alive, even I know that," Jace said. 

"You saw the ring, Alec's ring. How do you explain that?" she demanded.  

"Maybe he found a jeweller willing to make a fake despite the pain of death such an act entails. Or, though it pains me to even think of it, someone has desecrated Alec's grave. I will send one of my men to investigate immediately," Jace said. "But there is a storm coming, it's not safe out here. Come back to the castle."

"I think sometimes that I dreamt it all up," Isabelle said quietly. "I see him still when I close my eyes, how he looked like with lightning coursing through him, but who else would believe it if they hadn't borne witness to it? That ghosts exist, that the dead can hold lightning in its soul, that our brother became Death's liegeman? And all that talk about prophecies..." Isabelle shook her head. "Catarina has a reputation for being a witch, and I doubt Ragnor was just an ordinary man who happened to be able to see Death."

"You think we were under a spell? That Catarina and Ragnor bespelled us for their own ends?" Jace asked with a frown. 

"I don't know what to think anymore," Isabelle said, drawing her cloak closer to herself as the wind began to pick up and snow began to fall, then turned and continued walking.  

"This cold night will turn us all into fools and madmen," Jace muttered, before following his sister out into the rising snow storm. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

Magnus watched Jace follow Isabelle into the snowy woods, brows furrowed. He checked their hourglasses again to make sure that they were in no immediate peril, then dismounted from his horse and tapped a finger on the frozen ground, and waited. After a few minutes, small cracks began to form on the soil from the force of something small and very persistent trying to surface. Magnus snapped his fingers, sending it a little additional boost of magic, and eventually a little pile of bones clawed its way to the surface - the skeleton of some small animal that had died an untimely death seasons ago, possible trampled by under the hooves of a solider's horse from the way the tiny skull had fractured.

Magnus considered the little skeleton for a moment, then decided that it would do. He crouched down and stroked the smooth bone of the tiny skull with his thumb, and for a brief second it glowed with the message he had imparted to it. Magnus stood up and dismissed his skeletal messenger with a wave of his hand, and it scampered off towards Catarina's. Satisfied that someone would be looking out for the queen and her brother in his absence, Magnus got back on his horse and spurred it towards Edom.

Edom was three days' journey away on horseback, but even on a mortal horse, Magnus crossed the distance easily and swiftly, borne on the back of a storm cloud.

The forests of Brocelind had a wide river that ran through it, and it was this river that marked the divide between the two kingdoms, the treacherous water enough to dissuade all but the most persistent of travellers. The forests of Edom on the other side of the river should have consisted of the same types of trees and plants, and been home to similar creatures; and yet, although the Brocelind forest was not a welcoming place, the forests of Edom were far, far worse. Magnus knew what lived in there: ogres, ghouls, monsters. He had no fear of them, but even his horse trembled as it galloped with its hooves almost skimming the treetops. 

Beyond the dark forest, the rest of Edom was scorched land and ruins. It was no wonder that the King of Edom coveted the kingdom of Idris, with all its fertile, beautiful land. Once Edom had been a mighty kingdom, but its royal family had squandered all its riches on the pleasures of the flesh, laying heavy taxes on its people and stripping the land of anything valuable. Instead of leaving the farmlands to fallow, the people were forced to drain it to meet the demands of the royal family, until most of it was no better than dry desert.  

The grand Palace of Edom, on the other hand, was a thing of flagrant opulence and excess, a shining golden tower in the middle of a wasteland. Magnus nudged his horse downwards onto solid ground as they drew nearer, and guided it to the stables. 

Unlike the stables of Idris, which were warm and clean, the stables of Edom were dank and foul-smelling, the animals miserable and frustrated. Magnus saw it all so clearly - healthy, splendid animals, bought at great cost, then weakened by abuse and neglect until they were put down, and replaced with new animals. And despite the late hour, the palace was in a flurry of activity - hundreds of men carrying weapons and loading supplies on the horses. Magnus' horse, Trojan, whickered unhappily at him as he dismounted. 

"I know, I know. Remember that they cannot see you, or harm you. It's just for a little while," Magnus murmured comfortingly.  

The magnificent beast tossed its head and whinnied. 

"Of course we'll find out what has happened to Alexander. You can feel it too, can't you? The whole place reeks of dark magic," Magnus agreed grimly. Magnus didn't bother putting Trojan in a stall, not when the whole place was in such a horrible state, instead choosing to leave his steed with its reins trailing as he made his way into the palace.

 

 

The first place that Magnus checked was the many dungeons in the lower levels of the palace. He didn't believe for one moment that Alec was being hosted as an honoured guest as Aldertree had claimed, and if Alec had indeed been brought back to life by some dark magic, he would have fought to the death to return to his family. 

As far as Magnus was aware, the concepts of Heaven and Hell were human constructs. Something probably lay at the other end of the black desert, but he had a feeling that it had very little to do with angels and demons, or harps and hellfire. But as he walked along the dark, fetid cells in the dungeons, where prisoners had been restrained in torturous positions by iron shackles, some impaled on skewers to bleed out slowly, forced to remain in their own filth and waste, he reflected that humans were more than capable of inventing their own hells. 

"Please," one of the prisoners whispered, eyes wide and desperate when he walked past, and Magnus paused. This wasn't Alec - but humans normally _never_ saw him.

He cocked his head, trying to understand what the plea had meant, and why the man had been able to see him, and then he understood. And although it was not something that he usually did, he summoned the man's hourglass to check the top bulb. 

"Soon," he told the prisoner, and as he watched the man's face crumple with sobs of relief, Magnus couldn't help admitting that Ragnor was right - Alec had wrought some change in him, and Magnus wasn't entirely sure that that was a good thing.  

Magnus made it through the entire row of cells without finding Alec, then moved on to the next level, and the next. The Palace was enormous, all of it cold and unwelcoming, but after a while Magnus sensed something different about the topmost room of one of the east towers. There were spells around it - nothing strong enough to keep him out, of course, because there was no such thing, but spells that spoke of death and dark things nonetheless. 

He walked through the heavy wooden door, and barely had time to take in the state of the once opulent room, now thrashed and ruined as if they'd let a wild beast have free rein of it, before he was assailed by a stench of rotten things - and a man. The man crashed right through him and slammed hard into the door, but turned around with a snarl and came back for another attempt. This time, Magnus got a proper look at the his face, and his soul. 

" _Alexander_ ," he whispered in horror. "Oh, my darling."

He reached out one hand to Alec, but he flinched away and snarled at him again, baring blackened lips over his teeth, with no hint of recognition in his blootshot eyes. Magnus saw then that it was Alec's soul in Alec's body, but as far away from human as it was possible to be. He was dressed in muddy funeral finery, now torn in places, and his body had clearly begun the process of decomposition before his soul had been forcibly shoved back in. But worse than all of that was the state of his mind - Magnus couldn't even begin to imagine the confusion and horror Alec must have experienced being torn from the peace that he had finally earned to be caged inside rotting flesh, and held prisoner so far away from his loved ones.

Alec was going mad - if he wasn't already.

There was only one person Magnus knew who had the power and inclination for this sort of magic, or enough knowledge about what came after death to even attempt magic like this - knowledge Magnus must have let slip before he had realised that Camille only tolerated his company for the power she thought she could gain from him.  

At that moment, a key turned in the lock, and a bent old woman opened the door. It had been at least seventy years since he had last seen her, and she looked nothing like the voluptuous, beautiful woman she had once been, but Magnus recognised her immediately. 

"Camille," he seethed.  

"My spells might not be able to keep you out, but I always know when you come," Camille said as she hobbled into the room, leaning heavily on a walking cane carved with the jewelled head of a snake.  

The unnatural thing that had once been Alec cowered from her and fled to a corner of the room, eyeing them both with hostility. Camille didn't pay any attention to Alec, her rheumy eyes fixated on Magnus. 

"It has been a long time since you last came to me. Did you not miss me?" she asked him.  

Magnus ignored her question. "What have you done?" he asked, his voice trembling with barely-controlled rage. 

"Oh, you know the old spells - mustard seed, Basilisk's venom, adder's fork, finger of a birth-strangled babe... He couldn't even speak when I first brought him back, and as the days went by he became less and less suitable for polite company," Camille said, with the air of someone discussing an entertaining novelty or exotic pet. "But he suited Azazel's purposes well enough. He just needed your little prince to appear to his own nobles for a while, to incite mutiny against the queen - and now Azazel gathers an army paid for with coin from Idris' nobles, ready to march on the castle in three days' time."

"Why would you do this? You have never been interested in the quarrel between the two kingdoms," Magnus demanded. 

"Oh, I wasn't - until that little viper Sebastian Morgenstern came along, and _made_ it my business," Camille hissed. "You see, he tricked me of my jewel, reduced me to _this_. Then your little prince went and cut off his head before I had a chance to have my own sweet revenge on Sebastian by slowly flaying the skin off his back."

"Starting a war isn't going to change anything," Magnus replied stormily. 

"It would make _me_ feel better," Camille replied sweetly. "If the prince's siblings had had the decency to die properly, and the prince had moved on as he should have, Sebastian would not have thought of coming to me to imprison you, and I wouldn't be in this state. Someone has to pay, and it might as well be your pretty prince. You should have seen how haughty and regal he looked when he barged into my tower talking about going to your rescue... and look at him now."

Magnus' heart clenched. "You're insane," he finally said.  

"Why do you care? Humans die all the time. None of this matters to you," Camille said, smiling slyly, then her eyes flickered to the feral thing huddled in a corner, gibbering to himself. "What makes _him_ different?"  

Magnus did not respond, but his silence just seemed to goad her on. 

"I'm surprised you didn't keep him by your side. You would not even need to give him a gem, that little fragment of your magic, so that he would live forever - for, after all, he was already dead," Camille said. 

"I learnt my lesson - with you, in fact. I thought you would be different, since your kind can live for hundreds of years... but I saw how the jewel corrupted you," Magnus replied. "Although I think now that I may have been mistaken - it wasn't the jewel that changed you. It was I who was foolish and did not see you for what you were." 

"Indeed. You may have existed since the dawn of time, but that does not make you wise," she said mockingly. "I know the rules. You are all-powerful, eternal... but you may only watch, and witness," Camille said in a sing-song voice. "Edom and Idris will destroy each other, the soil will turn red with the blood of the Lightwood family, and at the end of it you will remember me, will you not? The one who destroyed the man you loved and everything he loved in life. The one who turned his heart against you - because none of this would have happened if you hadn't interfered. Unless..."

Magnus frowned at her. "I do not bargain. And even if I gave you another gem, it would not turn back time. I cannot return you the years that have passed, or your youthful looks."

"Of course. How foolish of me - Death the great leveller must be impartial. I know it's only a matter of time before my hourglass runs out," Camille sighed, and let out a mad little giggle. "Then let the world burn. Let it burn, darling, with you and I in it." 

Magnus clenched his jaw, took one last long look at the thing that had once been Alec, now trapped between life and death and beyond the realm of Magnus' influence, and left in a fury.

 

  

If Alec was alive, even this half-life that he was now trapped in, it stood to reason that he should have had an hourglass with his name on it. Magnus could only bear to wait until he was out of the room before he snapped his fingers to summon it; but nothing appeared in his hand. A second attempt yielded no results, and neither did a third. 

By the time he was in sight of the stables, he had worked himself up into such a state that all the animals shrank away from him, even Trojan. Magnus huffed in frustration and forced himself to calm down enough to coax his horse towards him, then spurred it into a full gallop. He could still feel the contaminating reach of Camille's magic all around him, oily and suffocating, and it was only when he was far away from it and the walls of Edom's palace that he finally created a rift between the worlds, taking him back to his domain.

He led Trojan straight to the room with the hourglasses and leapt down from his steed, going straight for the shelves instead of putting Trojan back in his stables first. There were million upon millions of hourglasses on the shelves, arranged in an order only Magnus understood, but even then it took far too long for Magnus to finally figure out where he might find Alec's hourglass. 

He found it sorted with the monsters that roamed the woods of Edom, and it was completely empty - not a single speck of black sand in the top bulb or the bottom bulb. Magnus had never seen an hourglass like it, and it was such an unnatural thing that it made his skin crawl to even touch it. He took a deep breath, steeled himself, then picked it up and hurled it onto the cold stone floor with all his might in one swift movement, but it remained whole and undamaged, the empty glass producing a hollow ringing sound as it rolled back and forth on the floor. 

Magnus swallowed hard, crouching down to pick it up again, running his thumb over the name at the base: Alexander Gideon Lightwood. He was not used to feeling helpless, or powerless, but there it was again - another new, horrifying experience that he would gladly have gone through eternity without, the terrible consequence of having allowed himself to feel human emotions, of binding himself with those earthly ties that Magnus had warned Alec about.

Trojan stomped his feet and tossed his head, whickering softly. 

"You're right. Maybe Catarina and Ragnor will have some ideas," Magnus agreed, tucking the hourglass within the folds of his robes. "Come, we have no time to lose. Edom rides against Idris in three days' time, and I will not let Camille get her way."  

 

 

The snow storm was still raging when Magnus arrived at Catarina's cottage. While Magnus himself could not feel the cold, Trojan was protected but still mortal, and Magnus murmured an apology to his steed, promising to be out as soon as he could. To his surprise, however, someone was waiting for them at the doorway.

"In here," Catarina called out, pointing out a stable stall that was standing incongruously in the middle of her front yard - a stall that looked suspiciously like the one Ragnor had made for Trojan, back in Ragnor's own lair.

In spite of the turmoil raging in Magnus' heart and mind, something warm settled in his gut - having too much to do with the living was not all bad, he reminded himself. 

He entered the little cottage quickly, mindful of letting the cold in, and Jace stood up from his chair so suddenly that the rickety thing fell backwards and hit the floor.  

"Izzy was right! I knew this was a trap!" he said, looking at Magnus fearfully. "You brought us here, out of the cold, only to summon Death to claim us!" 

"Jace, what are you talking about? Who's at the door?" Izzy asked warily, staring at what must have looked like an empty doorway to her. 

Both of them looked bedraggled and half-frozen, despite the cups of steaming tea that had been put in front of them. Catarina's protégé, Maia, also looked like she had been out in the storm - she had probably been sent to find Jace and Izzy in the storm, on Catarina's behest. Ragnor was settled on one of his abhorrent-looking armchairs in front of the fireplace, and rolled his eyes before righting Jace's chair with a wave of his hand. 

"Calm down and sit down, boy," Ragnor said dryly. "Catarina and I have no interest in murdering you or your sister. In fact, none of us would be here at all, disturbing Catarina's rest, if Death hadn't told Catarina that you two idiots were out wandering the woods in this weather." 

Maia stood up hastily and gave a small curtsey in the direction of the door, where she must have assumed Magnus was still standing. "My lord," she greeted him nervously.

It wasn't his business, but Magnus exchanged a look with Catarina - someone who persistently could not develop the ability to see him would not make a good candidate to continue Catarina's work.

"Do you have news for the Queen?" Catarina asked. 

Magnus hesitated; there was no point telling them what had happened to Alec, since there was nothing that Isabelle and Jace could do for their brother, but at least he could warn them about Edom's plans. "Edom has gathered an army paid for by some of Idris' nobles, due to ride in three days' time. They have three times the number of men and horses in your royal guard, and they intend to catch you unawares."

Isabelle stood up immediately when Catarina conveyed the message to her. "Thank you for your hospitality, Mistress Loss, but I must go. I don't know who I can trust anymore, but I will not surrender Idris to Edom without a fight." 

"Take Maia with you," Catarina suggested. "We healers have our own connections amongst the staff of every household, and the servants always know things. They could tell you which of your nobles are still on your side."

Both Isabelle and Maia looked hesitant at this suggestion, but Maia finally nodded. "If you will have me, my queen, it would be my honour to serve you," she told Isabelle, and Isabelle smiled gratefully in response.

After Ragnor had sent Isabelle, Jace, and Maia on their way back to the castle with a little charm to protect them against the cold, he returned to his armchair with his face set in a grim expression, muttering darkly.

"I knew it. Didn't I warn you, Catarina? Once you get mixed up in royalty, there are always murderous plots." 

Catarina ignored his grumbling. "Magnus, what happened in Edom? I take it that something has happened with Prince Alec."

Magnus nodded, sighing heavily. "Camille has turned him into a revenant. He is trapped between the worlds."

"It was a mistake to let her live," Ragnor muttered. 

"There is nothing I can do for him," Magnus said despairingly, and brought out Alec's hourglass to show them. 

"As it often is with spells like these, the power of the spell will be broken if the caster dies," Ragnor pointed out.

"As much as I loathe her, Camille is right - I am not allowed to interfere in the lifespans of living creatures," Magnus shook his head. "And believe me, I have already checked Camille's hourglass. She is not due to come to me for some time yet."

" _You_ might not be able to act directly, but that does not mean that there is nothing you can do," Catarina said musingly. "You have taken on liegemen before; why not take on another, and have them act on your behalf?"

Magnus frowned. "But who would be willing to swear fealty to Death?"  

"What about that murderous little girl? The one who poisoned the prince in the first place?" Ragnor suggested. "If you were to hold court over any kind of people, I suppose murderers and assassins would be it." 

Magnus glared at Ragnor. "I feel that I should be insulted by that."

"It's worth a try, Magnus," Catarina said. "And you need not worry about them not being able to see you - Queen Isabelle assigned Raphael as both gaoler and protector to Clary Morgenstern and Simon Lewis after their banishment, and Raphael is blessed with the Sight."

Magnus nodded gravely, took a deep breath and stood up, then smiled wanly at them. "Thank you - both of you," he said, and quietly stepped out into the storm.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! Been sort of distracted by other stories - I'll try to be more timely with updates for this one :)


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

Clary had made her home with her mother and best friend Simon at the foot of a rocky, barren mountain beyond the boundaries of both Idris and Edom. Magnus knew that her mother had succumbed to illness caused by her long imprisonment by Sebastian Morgenstern not two weeks after their banishment, and was not sure how well Clary's love for Isabelle and Jace had survived the tragedy. 

The storm had died down when he arrived at the rickety little hovel. The hastily constructed thing had been made from cracked wooden planks, was barely bigger than a shed, and looked like a strong gust of wind would blow it down. He saw some evidence of someone trying to fix the place to make it a little more liveable, and wondered if it might be the work of Raphael, even though Magnus was certain that Isabelle would not have required the guardsman to live in deprivation with the exiles he was supposed to be guarding. Having never had to care about visiting during polite hours, it was only after he'd already knocked on the door that Magnus realised that it a cloaked stranger might not be well-received in the middle of the night. 

Nothing happened for a while, but he could tell there was someone standing quietly on the other side of the door. He knocked again, and in a moment the door flew open to reveal Clary, her stance wary, with some sort of weapon hidden in one hand. Her eyes searched the empty night outside her door fruitlessly. 

"Who goes there?" she demanded of the snowy darkness, unable to see the shadowy form of Magnus standing in front of her. 

Behind her, Simon and Raphael came up to join her, both on guard, and Raphael frowned when he saw Magnus.

"Since when does Death bother knocking on the door?" he asked. 

"Death?! What do you mean death?!" Simon yelped.  

"As in the Grim Reaper - collector of souls, guide to the next world, the Rider on the pale horse," Raphael replied. "He is friends with Catarina and Ragnor." 

"He's... what?" Simon asked faintly.  

"Why are you here?" Raphael asked Magnus. "I do not suppose you are here to collect any of us, or you would not have bothered with the niceties."

Magnus nodded solemnly. "Idris is on the brink of war. But I am here for a specific purpose - I have need of Clary's particular skills."

"Me?" Clary said in surprise, when Raphael relayed this to her, then her brows furrowed with worry. "The Queen, and Prince Jonathan - are they in danger?" 

"Maybe we should talk about this inside. Would, um, Death like to come in to get out of the cold?" Simon suggested, then his eyes widened. "Did I just invite the Grim Reaper into our house?"  

"I do not feel the cold, but thank you," Magnus said, and Raphael stepped out of the way so he could step inside. 

The inside of the house was not in a much better state than the outside, and was just one room. Magnus judged that it must have been very cold, since the three were wrapped up in thick clothing, and there was very little in the way of furniture - a table with three crudely-constructed chairs, a pile of blankets on the dirt floor where they must have been sleeping, huddled together for warmth, and a fire pit surrounded by rocks over which a pot of something was simmering over the low fire. The three of them were wary but attentive as Magnus explained the situation and Raphael translated.  

Clary nodded solemnly when Raphael had finished speaking. "It would be an honour to serve you, my lord," she replied softly. 

Simon took a deep breath, then said, "Then I will, too. Do we need to... is there any particular way in which we have to die? Must it be by our own hand, or-" 

"I do not require you to die to enter my service!" Magnus said in shock. 

This information seemed to cause both confusion and relief for Clary and Simon, but Raphael was livid. "You thought you had to die, and you still said 'yes'?" Raphael snapped at Simon. 

"That seemed like the most reasonable conclusion," Simon replied weakly. 

"Truly, your loyalty and love for Idris is commendable," Magnus said gently. "I merely meant that if you were under my service, I could offer you some measure of protection, especially against Camille's magic." 

Clary blushed and shook her head when Raphael told them this. "It is the Queen and the Prince who have my love," Clary said. "But how do I swear fealty to a master I cannot see or hear? Raphael, why is it that you can see him?"  

Raphael shrugged. "I asked Catarina this myself, and she told me that it is a complicated thing. Those with magic in their veins are born with the ability to see Death, but for the rest of us much of it has to do with accepting that death is a natural part of life. Some people see him briefly in moments of great mental and physical turmoil, or if they are inebriated. And then some see him if they have a death wish - if they hope for the sweet oblivion of death."

"Abandon hope, and abandon fear - for at the end of everything, there is only me," Magnus said.  

"Abandon hope? There was a time when I would have said that I could not do that, but now..." Clary said with a hollow laugh. She closed her eyes, frowning in concentration, and Simon did too.

But when they opened their eyes, while Simon just stared blankly at the chair Magnus was supposed to be sitting in, Magnus could see Clary's eyes focusing on his face, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Oh," she said softly. "I did not expect you to look so... human." 

Magnus smiled sadly at her. "There is nothing that makes one feel quite as mortal as the folly of falling in love."

Clary took his hand impulsively, and got down on her knees in front of him. "I promise to be your faithful servant, and that I will do everything I can to kill the sorceress and free Prince Alec, even if it means offering my own life in forfeit." 

"Thank you, dear girl, although I hope it will not come to that. I accept your oath of fealty," Magnus said, helping her to her feet. "Time is of the essence. Come - we must make plans."

 

 

Much as Magnus loathed that they could not storm the Palace of Edom immediately, he knew that it made sense to wait until the army marching on Idris was on its way, leaving the palace with minimal guards. Clary had also left most of the tools of her old trade behind - all the poisons that she had concocted on her own, and weapons easily hidden within the folds of a dress. She had assured Magnus that with Simon and Raphael's help, she would be able to gather the things she needed within the three days allotted to her; and so Magnus returned to the duties he had been tempted to neglect, travelling all over the world guiding the souls that needed guiding, in between checking on Isabelle and Jace Lightwood and resisting the urge to see Alec, lest he accidentally tipped Camille off. 

He had to admit that the small army that Idris had managed to gather worried him. Magnus had hoped that they would be able to find more soldiers willing to fight for the queen, but it seemed that Edom's insidious influence had seeped into the hearts of Idris' nobles - even those who were not in on the treasonous plan that had been led by Lord Aldertree feared the force of Edom's army, and did not want to be seen in having aided Queen Isabelle in any way when King Azazel emerged victorious. But where trained soldiers, or at least their masters, feared to rise to the occasion, Maia had helped Isabelle gather others: farmers, small merchants, huntsmen, woodcutters, cooks, washer women, labourers who did odd jobs for whatever coin they could get - men and women, the common folk of Idris, who had loved Alec and Isabelle for the care they had showed for their people.

Magnus did not check their hourglasses. It would have done nobody any good to know. 

On the evening of the day that the army at Edom was to ride out, Magnus returned to the ramshackle wooden house to find Clary, Simon, and Raphael already waiting for him at the door. The house was so bare that it didn't even have brooms, but between the three of them, they managed to pry the front door off, and they clung onto that, riding the storm Magnus had conjured up to bring them to Edom. Over the forests and barren land they flew, over the heads of the advancing army - which Magnus noted with a sinking heart, was armed to the teeth and seemed to have grown since he had last visited Edom. Clary's knuckles were white from where she was gripping the wooden door, lines of worry etched deep on her face, and Simon and Raphael both looked grim. 

It was dark by the time they reached the palace. Raphael and Clary knocked out three guards, to provide uniforms to disguise all of them. Then Raphael and Simon made their way to the dungeons - they would free the more able-bodied prisoners to distract what little guards remained, to give Clary ample time to work. Once they heard the shouts of panic rising from the lower levels of the palace, Magnus and Clary made their way up to the tower where Magnus had found Alec.

The touch of Camille's magic was strong here, and even with Magnus shielding her from the worst of its influence, Clary began to look rather ill. 

"The air - it's poisoned," she whispered to Magnus.

"It's not. It's Camille's magic playing tricks on your mind, making you see and feel what is not there," Magnus said calmly, guiding her toward the centre of it all. 

But as Camille had promised, she had set up wards that told her when Magnus was near - and she was waiting for him outside Alec's door.

"My lord," she said with a mocking bow. "To what do I owe the pleasure of another visit?" Then she seemed to reach behind her, and Clary froze up, her dagger already halfway to Camille's back. "...and you brought me a new plaything."

Camille turned around to face Clary, tilting her chin from side to side and leaning closer to examine her, while Clary struggled to free herself from Camille's binding magic. 

"I knew you would not have come alone," Camille told Magnus. "You might have been able to hide this girl from my eyes and my ears, but you couldn't silence the righteous rage in her heart - and oh, how these illusions of moral superiority grate on my nerves!"

Lightning flashed in the sky overhead, and the shadows around them grew darker; then Camille stepped away from Clary, letting go of her chin suddenly and hissing as a bright spark of electricity crackled over Clary's skin.

"You cannot harm her - she is under my protection," Magnus said in a threatening growl.  

"I don't have to lay a single finger on her. She'll do it herself, won't she?" Camille said sweetly. "Betrayed your half-brother, murdered your father and your king. Your mother died because you couldn't save her in time, and the man you love and the one you loved like a sister hate you now. Even now, your best friend and the fool with him are outnumbered and fighting futilely for their lives. Death and destruction follow in your wake, little girl - it's no wonder you swore fealty to Death so readily." 

Magnus watched Clary's gaze drift to the dagger in her hand. Her hand began to shake.  

"Clary, Camille's magic makes you see things that are not there," Magnus reminded her. 

"No magic here, my lord. Just words, and the truth," Camille replied with a laugh, then turned back to Clary, her eyes glittering darkly. "Isn't that right? Do I not speak the truth, little girl?"  

"Don't call me 'little girl'," Clary said, anger flashing in her eyes, and she drove the blade into Camille's chest. 

Camille gasped, then looked down. "Missed the heart," she choked out through the blood in her mouth. 

"I wasn't sure if you had one, so I dipped the blade in poison," Clary replied coldly, and pulled the dagger out of Camille's chest.  

"At least you granted me the boon that the prince refused me," Camille said, with a sound almost like a laugh.

She clutched at her chest, face twisting with agony, and fell to the floor, frothing at the mouth; then she shuddered violently and stilled. Magnus felt her death instantaneously, all the spells that she had woven around the palace dissipating like smoke - and then he saw her spirit rise from her body, smirking at him. He scowled at her, and she blew him a kiss before she spun and vanished on the spot, fleeing into the next world, where he could not follow. Magnus hoped she would be forced to return whether she wished to or not, many, many times, and as something small, loathsome, and easy to step on.  

Clary was still staring down at corpse in front of her, as if to make sure that Camille was truly dead. "Prince Alec...?" she whispered, looking up at Magnus. 

But Magnus was already gone, slipping into the room, right through the door. The wretched thing that had been Alec's reanimated corpse was lying limp and battered on the floor, and there was blood smeared all over the entire room, as if towards the end he had simply started throwing himself against the confines of his prison with no heed to the injuries he was causing himself. 

Magnus could see tendrils of frost climbing across what was left of the broken mirror in the room, caused by something far beyond the chill of the snowy air blowing in from an open window, and in a corner Magnus saw the luminous outline of Alec's spirit, cringing away as far as he could from his body. 

"Alexander?" Magnus said softly. Alec's head snapped up, and much to Magnus' relief, he saw recognition in Alec's eyes. 

"Magnus," Alec gasped, and Magnus was by his side in an instant, holding him close. "I don't know what happened, _how_ it happened... I don't _remember_..."

"Shhh. It is all over now. Camille is dead," Magnus assured him. 

"Will she be waiting for me, on the other side as well?" Alec whispered, in part fear and part anger.

"No. Every soul makes its journey across the desert alone," Magnus told him. "I am sorry that this happened to you. I should have expected Camille's spite and ambition."

"No, how could you have known?" Alec said, shaking his head. He closed his eyes and sank further into Magnus' embrace. Alec let out a sigh, and a gust of icy wind swept through the room. "Do I have to leave again?" he asked in a quiet voice. 

"Yes, I'm afraid so," Magnus said regretfully.

Alec held him tighter for a moment, then braced himself and pulled away so that he could look Magnus in the eye. "I'm coming back to you - properly, this time. I swear it on everything that I am," Alec said fiercely. 

"I know, Alexander. You are a man of your word," Magnus said, voice breaking as he cupped Alec's cheek.

Alec closed his eyes and touched his forehead to Magnus' forehead. "Don't think of me, in the time that passes until I return. I would rather be forgotten if thinking on me should make you sad," he whispered.

"Ah, Alexander - do not ask me to make promises I cannot keep," Magnus said softly. 

But Alec couldn't linger here, and neither could Magnus - already he could feel the battlefield calling to his bones. Still, opening up the rift between the worlds, something that Magnus could do without moving a muscle if he thought about it hard enough - and having to do it a _second_ time for Alec - cost him a piece of himself, forever gifted unto Alec's soul. 

"Now go, my love," Magnus said, stealing one last kiss before Alec reluctantly stepped through the doorway and beyond Magnus' reach again. 

Magnus stood in front of the empty space where the doorway had been, long after it had disappeared. With great effort, Magnus gathered himself - he felt hollowed out, but he had places to be, souls to collect, and three humans to find and escort home to Idris.

There was a smell of blood in the wind.

 

 

Clary, Raphael, and Simon had already escaped from the palace when Magnus found them, all of them blood-splattered and bearing minor injuries, riding on the fastest horses they had managed to steal from the stables. The horses ran faster when they saw Magnus riding behind them, but Magnus caught up with them anyway. 

"I cannot take your mortal steeds with me on the back of the storm, it would frighten them to an early death," he called out to the three humans. 

"But we're almost a full day behind them. We'll never catch up," Clary said anxiously. 

Magnus shook his head gravely. "They thought their strength in numbers would protect them from the monsters that lived in the forest, but they've underestimated how hungry the monsters are. It will take some time for them to get through."

"But what about us, then?" Raphael asked. 

"Stay close to Clary - the monsters of the forest will not dare come near her with my protection on her, not if they value their hides," Magnus said. "You are all still dressed as Edom's guards, and could pretend to be with the army and follow them on the way to Idris. Most of them are mercenaries, none of them will notice in the chaos."

"But where is Death going?" Simon asked. "Why can't he stay with us?"  

"I must ride on ahead - the battle calls me," Magnus replied brusquely, and spurred his horse skyward. 

The dark handle of his scythe appeared in his raised hand as he rode over the forests of Edom, reaping the souls of man and monster alike as they fell and stained the cursed soil with their blood for a night and a day. More fell to the unpredictable currents and slippery jagged rocks in the river, and by the time the sun rose on Edom's forces on the third day under the cover of Brocelind forest, spirits were low and their numbers had dwindled by a quarter. 

Azazel was trying to rouse his troops with a speech, but all Magnus heard was mutinous grumbles and talk of deserting - the king had been surrounded by his guardsmen throughout the journey and had barely raised his sword, and had crossed the river in the relative comfort of a small craft pulled across the treacherous water by the strongest horses. The men he had bought had been told to expect an easy battle and promised riches and titles after Edom's victory, not a tiring journey through dark woods filled with things with too many teeth, and a battle against the forces of nature, in particular the persistent, never-ending storm that seemed to be plaguing them. Magnus had no doubt that more would cut their loses and slip away into the shadows of the forest before nightfall. 

Magnus walked amongst them, unseen, and found Clary, Raphael, and Simon huddled around a fire shared by a few other men, having finally caught up with the invading army before they'd attempted to cross the river, and trying to dry out. They did not notice him.

"They will reach the castle by nightfall," Simon said in an undertone. "Do you think Idris is ready?"

"There is nothing to do but hope for the best," Raphael replied gravely. "It is my duty to fight, but I would suggest that you and Clary slip away quietly now. You know that if the two of you are caught on Idris soil, the punishment is death."

"You cannot expect me to leave now, knowing that Queen Isabelle and Prince Jonathan will be fighting for their lives on that battlefield!" Clary whispered agitatedly. "I'll fight until they've stripped the flesh and blood off my bones!"

"If not you, then Simon at least. A minstrel has no place on the battlefield," Raphael said gruffly.

"That's where you're wrong, Raphael. Who else would write the songs about the battle, and tell of how bravely our soldiers fought?" Simon said obstinately. 

Well, they had made their choices - it was out of Magnus' hands now, the wheels of fate and destiny moving inexorably forward. Magnus left them then, and headed for the castle. 

 

  

The castle and the little town that housed the families of the servants and guards of the castle was a flurry of activity - blades being sharpened, horses being shod, weapons, shields and armour being handed out from the castle's stores. Some of the common folk had brought weapons they were more familiar with - axes, hoes, rakes, scythes of cold metal instead of bone, unlike Magnus' own. Those too young or too old to fight had been sequestered in safety inside the castle walls, and a few of the older guardsmen would be left behind as the last line of defence, if all else failed.

Not everyone knew how to ride a horse, and there certainly weren't enough horses to go around, but when Isabelle rode out in full battle armour with Jace on her right, Maia on her left, and her royal guard behind her, there was something shining in the eye of every single person who had gathered to fight for and with their queen. 

"We few, we happy few," Isabelle said, looking around at the ragtag army of men and women that surrounded her with pride. "For they that tonight shed their blood with me shall I call my brothers and sisters. From this night to the ending of the world, we shall be remembered, and any who did not have the privilege to be here shall think themselves accursed." 

With Isabelle riding fierce and proud at the head, the small army made their way out of the castle and towards Brocelind, to meet the enemy hidden in its shadows - and a dark figure on a light chestnut horse rode out with them.

 

 

After that, for many years after, it was indeed Simon's song that remained the only true telling of the Battle of Brocelind, although many minstrels attempted to tell the tale in their own way. In some versions, just the sight of Queen Isabelle in all her beauty and grace had brought the opposing army to their knees and convinced them to throw down their weapons in peaceful surrender; in some versions, Queen Isabelle had transformed into any number of magical creatures to slay the evil king - a dragon, a unicorn, a winged angel of vengeance; in others, it was Prince Jonathan who finally slew King Azazel and stuck his head on a pike as a gory warning to any that dared attempt to invade Idris again, although that version was definitely the least popular.  

But only Simon's version told of the horror of being surrounded by the dying screams of humans and horses, the blank gaze of the dead as they lay in the mud, the unbearable noise of metal against metal, and still more unbearable, of metal against bone. Only Simon's version told of the fierce determination of the people of Idris, and of a red-haired girl who had galloped right into the heat of the battle without fear, stabbing King Azazel in the heart while Queen Isabelle cut off his head. And only Simon's song had told of the Grim Reaper riding silently at Queen Isabelle's side, striking terror in the hearts of their enemies when they suddenly saw his skull-like face and blazing eyes like comets - although Magnus was inclined to forgive him because Simon had never been able to see him, and he doubted many people would have taken Simon seriously if he had described Death as a handsome man with kohled eyes and a killer sense of fashion. 

However, even Simon's song left out the part after Edom's army had thrown down their weapons at the sight of Azazel's headless body, when Isabelle and Jace had finally seen the face of the mysterious enemy soldier who had helped them slay the king of Edom. 

"Clary! How...?" Jace gasped, already dismounting from his horse and moving towards her, before he remembered himself.  

Clary dismounted from her horse and dropped to her knees. "Your Highness, I... Please forgive me for coming back."

"You were ordered not to return to Idris, on pain of death," Isabelle said.

"I know - but I could not stand by, knowing that Idris was at war, and not return to fight by your side," Clary said. 

Jace looked pleadingly at his sister. "Izzy," he said anxiously, not daring to contradict and undermine her in front of their people, but with all his hopes borne in that one word.

Isabelle took a deep breath, then smiled. "I promised that everyone who fought with me in this terrible battle tonight would be as close as my own blood - and how could I not forgive my sister when she has fought so bravely by my side?" She got off her horse, walking towards Clary and pulling her up onto her feet and into her embrace. "I've missed you."

Clary let out a sob and hugged Isabelle back tightly. "I have missed you, too."

"Come - I can tell that we have much to talk about, you and I," Isabelle whispered to her, then raising her voice so that the rest of the people gathered around them could hear her, said, "Sound the trumpets for our honoured dead! Let our bloody colours wave! For tonight we have slain our greatest enemy and return home in glorious victory!"  

A ragged cheer sounded out amongst the survivors as they raised their bloodied weapons in the air. And as Magnus watched Alec's siblings returning to the castle with their people, he allowed himself a small smile, the hollow ache in the heart he was not supposed to have from saying goodbye to Alec tempered ever so slightly as he slipped away into the shadows.

 

 


	4. Epilogue

 

 

The world blurred around Magnus as his horse galloped through the ancient towering oak and ash trees, his steed bringing him to the circle of standing stones on top of one of the hills. The grey horse snorted as it slowed down when they drew nearer to the circle, clearly puzzled by the unusual path Magnus had chosen to take today when normally Magnus simply opened a portal into his domain. Trojan would have understood, but he had chosen to move on a few years ago, and Magnus' new steed did not know that this was his habit - in the decades that had passed, it would occasionally occur to him to visit Isabelle or Jace Lightwood, and Magnus would always choose to return to his domain through the standing stones on those days.

Magnus saw Jace more often, but only because his wife Clary had taken apprenticeship under Catarina to turn her knowledge of herbs and the strengths and weaknesses of the human body into healing and medicine. But Magnus had gone to the castle today to visit Isabelle, because today had been a special occasion for Isabelle and her royal advisor, Maia. Although they were not officially married, it was common knowledge throughout the kingdom that the Queen would have no children of her own - and so Isabelle had put out a call to all corners of the land for young men and women willing to serve the kingdom to come forth and be put to the test, so that she could find a suitable heir to the throne, and impart her knowledge to them while she still lived. It had taken some convincing, but Ragnor had grudgingly agreed to help with spells and potions that would help Isabelle chose the right candidate.

Today had been the first day of the trials, with more expected to arrive at the castle over the week. And Magnus had foolishly hoped that perhaps, just perhaps - today would be the day. Ragnor had frowned and harrumphed at Magnus' obvious disappointment, then asked Magnus if he ever intended to continue the game of chess that had been interrupted a fortnight ago by some skirmish Magnus had had to see to in another continent. Magnus had been touched, but the weight of his disappointment had been too heavy, so he had decided to return to his domain - not to brood, as Ragnor called it, but just to sit alone in Alec's chair, accompanied by nothing but the endless whispering of falling sand. 

He was idly considering the possibilities of getting a cat when he noticed someone sitting on the grass by the standing stones - a boy, almost a man, who looked up when he heard the sound of Magnus' horse approaching, a sound ordinarily inaudible to mortal ears. 

The boy had a sturdy little mule by his side, and he had gone to the trouble of taking off all the bags it had been carrying and placing them neatly on the grass despite all the additional effort that must have been, so that the beast would not have to bear the load while the boy rested. He had dark hair, eyes falling somewhere between brown and green, was tall and might grow taller yet, and something in the shape of his brow was vaguely reminiscent of Alec - but it was the soul that Magnus recognised. This was Alexander, _his_ Alexander, very much alive again - and to find him sitting here on this lonely hillside by the standing stones, as if he had been waiting for Magnus, was too much of a coincidence. Then there was the fact that he could obviously _see_ Magnus. Magnus couldn't help staring, couldn't help hoping.  

Magnus dismounted as the boy got to his feet nervously, brushing ineffectually at his tunic.

"Good evening, sir. I think... I think I'm looking for you," the boy said hesitantly.

"And do you know who - or rather _what_ I am?" Magnus asked gently, trying to keep his voice calm. 

"I'm... not sure?" the boy replied. "But I have been dreaming of this place for as long as I can remember. Even before I could speak, I have been dreaming of you," he said and blushed, suddenly aware of how that might have sounded. 

"I am Death," Magnus said plainly. He spread his arms so that the boy could see him clearly and didn't bother trying to hide anything - not even how much he feared that his answer would frighten the boy.  

"With a capital 'D'? Wait - don't answer that question..." The boy frowned, and his facial expressions were so much like Alexander's that Magnus didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. The boy cocked his head consideringly, then took one step towards him, then another. "You also go by another name. Magnus."

"Yes, that is my name. What about you? What is your name?" Magnus asked.  

"Lex. Short for Alexander. I was named after the late crown prince, as my mother admired him greatly." 

"Aren't you afraid of me?" Magnus asked gently, when the boy was finally standing right in front of him. 

"No," the boy answered simply. He reached out a tentative hand for Magnus' hand, as if afraid that his hand would go right through Magnus, and seemed immensely relieved when Magnus turned out to be solid and tangible - and Magnus could only stare at the impossible, at the warm hand gripping his own. "I've waited 17 years to finally have an excuse to make this journey here. If Queen Isabelle hadn't sent her heralds out calling for volunteers to submit themselves as worthy candidates for the crown, my mother would never have let me come all the way to the castle on my own. I've waited too long to be afraid."  

Magnus placed his hand over the boy's and smiled, his heart leaping with joy. "And I have been waiting for you, Alexander."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End.
> 
>  
> 
> This series is finally complete! *confetti*
> 
> Come find me on tumblr @la-muerta or twitter @tethysea if that's your thing. Until next time, XOXO.


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